


discord drabble collection

by Miaschyx, thespottedowl



Series: BBS drabbles [9]
Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: :), Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Angry Sex, Birthday Sex, Choking, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Drabble Collection, Drunk Sex, Face-Fucking, Facials, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Morning After, Morning Sex, Rimming, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Frustration, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Unedited Work, angry brock is sexy brock, brian gets off while brock steps on him, but uhh def not foot fetish just don't know how to tag that, degradation kink, dunno know what the kink is called w someone holding you down but uhh that one, listen I just write stuff in discord and need somewhere to dump it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miaschyx/pseuds/Miaschyx, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespottedowl/pseuds/thespottedowl
Summary: I write a lot of porn in the bps discord channels. need somewhere to put it all yknow?chapter one: brian catches moo masturbating, blows him under the desk.chapter two: brock gets angry during a game, fucks brian's throat.chapter three: yeah it's also brian sucking brock off angry (running theme yknow)chapter four: brock making brian get himself off with a dildo.chapter five: smitty and kryoz have sloppy drunk sex and then sweet morning sexchapter six: smitty's birthday sexchapter seven: luke holds ryan downchapter eight: john sneaks in to see smit (written with Miaschyx)chapter nine: brock puts his brat in his place
Relationships: Brock Barrus/Brian Hanby, John | KryozGaming/SMii7Y, Luke Patterson/Ryan | Ohmwrecker
Series: BBS drabbles [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/748089
Comments: 22
Kudos: 127





	1. one [terrormoo]

**Author's Note:**

> these are not edited, they appear exactly as messily as my cowriters see them. you've been warned, okay.
> 
> reminder: if you are a minor, please do not comment! I won't try to control what you read but it does make me uncomfy to interact with you on an explicit work. thank you!!

they'd said goodnight to the rest of the crew hours ago, the last ones on the call like always as they bounced quiet banter off of each other. the private lobby closed down, just the two of them in the silent call, quiet, calm air sitting easy between them as they worked on their own setups. separate rooms had been working well so far for them, made it easier to separate work and home, but it was still nice for brian to be able to hear moo's quiet breath on the other end, quiet comments when he found good clips, gentle praise when he finds brian's best lines.

still, sitting in the empty lobby, brian can hear brock's focus flip, the background noise pick up abruptly, brock's breath grow heavy and hot in brian's ears.

it's pavlovian at this point, after so long living with brock, that brian's heart pounds, half of an erection pressing against his zipper, demanding attention. he knows what brock is doing, just knows, because he also knows the way brock's eyelashes flutter when he wraps his hand around himself for the first time, and the way he tips his head back when he runs his thumb over his tip.

brock lets out a noise, the barest hint of a gasp, and it washes over brian in a wave of heat and something that clogs up his throat and drags out a whine. he's on his feet without really noticing, not consciously, because he just wants, right now, to feel brock's breath hot in his ears, not just through his headphones.

brian's out of his chair and down the hall without ever really deciding that, but fuck he needs it bad. his hands are on his arms, pulling at the ends of his t-shirt sleeves half-desperately because he's trying really fucking hard not to touch himself. it's hard to think through the hazy almost-subspace, nothing important besides get to brock.

brock is exactly where brian wants him, or at least hoped he was. he's slouching in his chair, rolled out a little ways from the desk, jeans unzipped and hand messy with lube, stroking himself slowly. it's.. brian's having trouble thinking, but he married this man for a reason. it's hot as hell. he forgets himself for a second, pausing in the doorway, and stays there for a second, pressing the heel of his hand into his crotch slowly. it's not until brock rolls his head around, arches his eyebrow at brian, and it breaks the spell.

brian crosses the room as if in a daze, drops to his knees in front of brock, heat flaring anew in the pit of his stomach at the look brock gives him, somehow both fond and lustful, pupils blown. it comes natural for brian to let his lips part, trace up brock's slit with his tongue, take him into his mouth.

it’s hot, and slick, and brock’s fucking up into his mouth only a minute into it, already panting and so close to the edge, and brian wants, hollows his cheeks and opens his throat and lets brock thrust deeper, chasing his release.

his abs are sore from the position, throat abused, and brock’s fingers are woven in his hair, guiding him down hard. brian’s blinking tears out of his eyes, rolling his tongue in just the right way, and he can feel brock reach his tipping point, clenching his hands in brian’s hair, and he pulls back to fist brock’s cock, slick and pulsing in his fingers. brock’s cum splashes across his face in spurts, and brian lets his mouth fall open, lets his lips curl into a smile when he tastes the bitter tang of brock’s cum in his mouth.

brock is leaning back in his chair, one arm thrown over his eyes, but he jerks up when brian laps at his cock gently, licks the spend off his cock, off his own fingers, tongue curling around each digit carefully. brock groans, but he’s got the hint of a smile playing on his lips when he pulls brian up into his lap, helps him clamber into the chair. brock kisses him hard, fingers curling harsh around his jaw, and it hits just the right part of brian, still turned on and a little subdropped. he’s still kissing brian when he curls his hand around brian’s cock, stroking slowly with his thumb hitting the sensitive spot just under the head. it’s got brian groaning, head rolling back and back arching as every fibre of him seems to tighten. he cums hard against brock’s exposed lower stomach, hands tight on his shoulders as he cries out.

brock grins at him, something soft sneaking back into his gaze as he leans back in to kiss brian again. he leans back, eyes brian, smile widening as he reaches up to smear a droplet of cum down brian’s face. “good look on you,” he says casually, smile curling his words. brian kisses the mess off his finger and leans back up to meet his lips.


	2. two [terrormoo]

brian wants him mad, gets a thrill every time he sets a card down and gets a reaction. it’s got him squirming, and he doesn’t protest when moo calls it off, leaves the session early. brian stays frozen in his chair, pretending to work, but his posture is ramrod straight and his headphones are around his neck, ears straining to hear brock’s footsteps in the hallway, the doorknob turning.

he’s almost shivering by the time brock steps up behind him, breath trailing over the crook of his shoulder. he’s eager and desperate when brock tells him to kneel, practically throws himself onto the ground because he can feel the heat laced through brock’s words.

brock’s eyes are flinty as he unzips his fly, and brian can’t quite bring himself to be upset at the spit already pooling in his mouth as he lets his lips fall apart. brock’s in a mood — brian would know, he helped put him there — but it means his nails catch roughly behind brian’s jaw, scratch down the side of his neck just enough to leave raised red lines and brian moaning on his cock. they’re both worked up already, feeding off of each other, and it comes easy to brian to build a rhythm, get brock’s fingers clenching roughly in his hair and moans spilling out of his mouth.

brock moves him, then. shoves his keyboard away, sets him leaning up on the desk. brian’s chin is shiny with spit, eyes glazed over, but his fingers crook around brock’s hips as he seeks out his mouth.

he’s a tease, then, slipping his tongue down brian’s jaw and tracing along his neck. his fingers are curled tight around brian’s cock, jacking him off only a little faster than teasing, and it’s not enough for brian to cum, he’s just trapped underneath brock and squirming under his mouth and his hands and god-

brian’s moaning loud and long and he can practically feel brock pressing that devil’s smile like a brand into his shoulder. it feels like an eternity that he’s been teetering on the edge, and brock’s hand is just too loose and just too slow for him to ever quite reach his peak. he’s moaning wild with abandon, rutting his hips into brock’s hand, fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his head, dizzy with submission and just wanting to cum.

brock’s mouth has been moving, too, kissing fiery words into brian’s skin, promising wild play later on, and brian can’t even catch them, the mental pictures refusing to even assemble themselves. he’s so turned on already, lost in the press of brock’s thigh between his and his long, warm fingers and hot tongue tracing the dip between his collarbones and brock’s heat is surrounding him and he’s tilting his head back and crying out and rutting up-

the ring of brock’s fingers tightens just the slightest bit and slide down brian’s shaft one more time and it’s all he needed, surrounded by brock and overwhelmed and overstimulated and he’s coming crashing back down, cock leaking over brock’s hand, spattered across his stomach. brian’s panting, head lolling, and brock smiles gently at him and kisses him, tongue licking the words out from behind his teeth

brian reaches out, catches brock’s dick, feels him thrust up on instinct. it’s hot, and hotter so is the whisper-quiet moan brock gives into brian’s shoulder. he lets brian get him off like that, calmer than brian’s, leaning against the desk and letting brock rut into his fist until he spills over brian’s fingers, gasping out the residual heat into brian’s soft skin


	3. three [terrormoo]

but uh yeah what started this, accidentally hitting all my kinks?? now I'm gonna hit them on purpose. brock is angry, seething mad. it's not a big thing, which makes it worse because he knows he shouldn't be mad about it. let's say it's that golf it video, the "brian! I hate you!" one. he's not flustered, just so angry he can't think and when he gets a chance to leave, he's storming into brian's room. brian's giggling, but it cuts off real fast when he catches a glimpse of brock's face. 

he's on his knees, waiting with his hands bound behind his back before he can blink, kneeling with his mouth open and waiting for brock. his dick smacks brian's cheek and he blinks, but brock is quick to tangle his fingers in his hair, yanking hard as he shoves brian's mouth down on his dick. he's choking immediately, squeezing his eyes shut as brock holds him down. it feels like an eternity before he lets him up, gasping for air before the hand still fisted in his hair pulls him back down again. it takes a few tries with brian chokig, throat spasming on brock's cock, but he slowly builds up a rhythm, sucking and licking at brock's dick-

brock is still fuming mad, and he’s sneaking a hand down to brian’s neck and squeezing. brian thinks he might explode. his vision whites out, jaw going limp on brock’s cock. it yearns him a quick tug on his hair, the other hand pressing firmly into his throat again before brock builds it into his rhythm, squeezing brian’s throat firmly. he’s using brian’s mouth as his fucktoy, guiding him up and down on his dick with one hand in his hair and one on his throat. it’s so fucking good, brian’s brain is almost mush. he’s dizzy with subspace, and it’s not until brock taps the inside of his thigh with his foot that brian realizes he’s been thrusting into the air, unconsciously following brock’s rhythm. brock smirks at him, a devil’s smile that makes brian shiver around his cock, and presses his boot down solidly on brian’s crotch.

brock gets brian off like that, fucking his throat and stepping on his damn dick. he calls brian a whore, too, just for good measure, and also because it makes brian whine and sob around his dick. he shoots his load down brian’s throat, watches him choke and struggle for air while brock’s cum leaks out the corner of his mouth. and sitting there on the recording room floor, brian flushed cherry red and hair standing on end from where brock held him, brock kneels and kisses him, licks the cum out of his mouth. he also promises never to play golf with him again, but that’s another story.


	4. four [terrormoo]

on camera, in front of god and all their friends. it's certainly cut out of the final product, but for everyone in the call to see brock in full Top™️ mode, hand buried in brian's hair and brian's head yanked back for brock to mark up (and he surely does, biting massive dark hickeys into the pale lines-). they can't see below the desk, but brian is on his knees and trembling, struggling to hold himself up as brock fucks up into him hard, free hand fisting brian's cock so painfully slowly. brian's a noisy bitch, whining and begging for more, and brock is silent as the grave, eyes just briefly meeting the camera as brian cries out and cums

and who's to say whether they heard noises from the other end of the call, if the game was paused and hadn't moved in ten minutes-

hm just brian with a dildo and brock watching in general-

brian getting particularly mouthy one day and brock's in a good enough mood, willing to play this game and humor him. he makes brian strip, gets him all set up, teasing and just enough foreplay, and when brian's on the bed, face in the pillows and ass in the air, brock steps back. leaves him with just the dildo and lube, makes him keep going on his own. 

brian does, bc goddamn it he's riled up already, but he's begging for brock's cock the entire time. brock stands in the corner of the room, jacking himself and providing just enough teasing encouragement to have brian frustrated and whining. he waits until brian is pumping the dildo in and out of himself, thighs starting to quiver just a bit, and makes him stop. of course brian whines, he's been in a mood all day and now brock's pulling this shit?? 

and then brock is on him, fucking deep into him so suddenly brian can barely gasp for air, he's really struggling- and then his hands, brock's hands feel like they're everywhere with how much he can overwhelm brian. one is on the back of his neck, pressing him down into the mattress, and the other is palming the head of his cock, he's so oversensitive already-


	5. five [krii7y]

I’m late to this train but uhh clingy boyos then becoming super randy, like jaren’s hugging john for just a second too long and something flips in john suddenly it’s GO TIME

tries to flip him over, forgets that they’re both wasted and they just end up sprawled out on top of each other on the bed, giggling and making out just panting into each others’ mouths but it’s worth it when he can grind down on smit and make him moan

listen it may be messy sex but it’s still sexy

jaren's extraordinarily self-conscious and is still certainly having his gay crisis but he's also drunk and very aware of the fact that he likes john. even better if he’s confessed all this to john and john goes “okay sure” and continues trying to seduce him, leading to SEVERAL drunk make out sessions before they officially get together

jaren goes “I’m not gay, what the fuck dude” and then immediately turns around and gets distracted by john’s lips

john’s role is the ever important “hey u should probably solve this crisis,,, but you could definitely also do that after we fuck”. self help but also,, I could help if u want

hey you can’t panic about us having sex if you’re too busy getting fucked again

“how do you know if you’re gay or not if you haven’t tried every sex position with a man? hey if we start right now immediately we could be done by the end of the week”

ah the sappy, pleasurable stuff is the morning sex though, the previous sex was sloppy and giggly and they never managed to get smit prepped properly, just rutted together like horny teenagers

it’s the morning sex where john gets to finger him open, make his back arch and see what kind of noises he can drag up

eager to have john get his mouth on every one of those hickeys in the morning too, smooth out the corners of the memories he doesn’t quite remember and replace them with the very distinct sensation of john’s teeth dragging over his skin-

I’m OBSESSED with the idea of his on his hands and knees to let john prep him, hiding his face in the crook of his arm, but stubborn as all hell insisting that he’s gotta be facing john. he tries to tell jaren it’s more comfortable doggy style, that’s why he prepped him that way- jay won’t hear it, he’s gotta have john’s mouth on his when he finally bottoms out, just to taste the sigh he lets out

listen this man just wants to watch john fuck

I don’t blame him

listen I just want jaren being so fucking tense kissing john and being slow to touch him and just overall hesitant until john gets his lips on jaren's neck and the boy just melts. he's a lil hungover in the morning and so scared of what they did last night and he wakes john up trying to climb over him out of the bed. 

the banter is stilted as fuck and john just wants to shake him like,, calm down you're overthinking this oh my GOD. I'm gonna fuck u and you're gonna like it >:(((


	6. six [krii7y]

I love the idea of morning birthday sex, but you know what’s even better?? john doesn’t touch him the entire day.

smitty’s fucken,, distraught, secretly of course. it’s very surprise birthday party esque — did he forget it was my birthday?? they woke up together like normal, nothing’s been different while they’ve been working all day. they recorded together and everyone else wished him happy birthday and john doesn’t say anything. everyone else assumes it’s because they live together and smitty mutes his mic and tries to scream as silently as possible.

it comes to a head after dinner, because that’s when smitty tries to ask him about it.

and by ask, he means that they’re washing dishes together, john’s humming along to whatever trashy music they listen to while cleaning the kitchen, and smitty finally pops and yells “what the FUCK”

john looks up at him, startled, and smitty starts off, “we’ve been awake for nine hours now and every one of those hours has been during my birthday! we woke up together and you didn’t wish me a happy birthday, we worked together - in the same room - all day and you didn’t wish me a happy birthday, and we had a steak dinner together, presumably for some special occasion, which might be- oh yeah! my fucking birthday! I mean, what the fuck, john?”

and while smitty yells at him, john, very calmly, dries the last dish and his hands off and pauses the music. then he stands, hands on his hips, and lets smitty finish.

it takes the wind out of smit’s sails a little bit, and he seems to deflate just the slightest bit. “I mean- w-huh?” he says, gesturing rather uselessly at john. “we’ve been together for two years now, I thought we’d gotten birthdays out of the way already.” he blinks rather lamely at john.

john, on the other hand, crosses his arms over his chest and stands up a little straighter. “you want something special for your birthday?” he says, and there’s something tucked deep into his words that makes smitty shiver.

“not necessarily,” smitty says meekly, “maybe just a happy birthday would be nice-“ and john is stalking towards him, dark eyes seeming to flash with something dangerous. still, he hold his ground, and john crosses the kitchen in three strides, catching him by the waist and tugging him close. smit only catches the barest corner of a smile before john is licking into his mouth, hot and wet and smitty doesn’t bother to suppress a moan as he reaches up to tangle his fingers in john’s hair. john is kissing him insistent and fierce, claiming his mouth with a bite to his plush bottom lip

“you wanna do this here or wait long enough to get back to the bedroom, baby?” john murmurs against his lips. jaren is panting, pressed close against him and he can feel that they’re both edging towards hardness. 

“god, want you to fuck me here,” smitty whines against his neck. it’s the right answer, it must be, because john’s hand is on his jaw, pulling him up into another bruising kiss.

jaren can feel the edge of the countertop digging into his hips, pinning him against john. john’s practically growling now, one hand in the back of his hair and the other braced on the counter next to him. there’s a thrill that runs down his spine when john’s teeth move away from his lips and start mouthing down his neck. something akin to fire coils deep in his gut when john bites down on the sensitive skin just behind his ear, and he can feel the twitch of john’s hips against his thigh when his teeth coax a moan from his throat

john hums as he pulls at jaren’s zipper, almost laughing at the hiss the motion produces from the smaller man. one hand is still buried in jaren’s hair, fist just a little too tight to be casual as he holds the younger still. he pushes down jaren’s boxers, thumbing at the tip of the erection that pops up. jaren whimpers, squirming as much as he can

“oh come on now, birthday boy,” john says mockingly, and his voice is pitching deep and jaren is whining again. john spits into his palm before he wraps his fist around smitty’s velvet skin, grinning sharp at the gasp it pulls from the man.

he finally drops the hand out of jaren’s hair, letting his head drop back abruptly as a moan bubbles out of his mouth. it’s almost advantageous for john, and he steps close to mouth another hickey into jaren’s skin as he jacks him loosely. “gonna be good for me tonight, baby boy?” john asks roughly against jaren’s bruised skin. “let me put my mouth on you, make you feel real good?” jaren is moaning something high and sweet at his words, hips rocking into john’s hand, and he decides that that’s about enough of that.

abruptly, john grabs smit, hipbones sharp under his fingers as he spins him, presses his cock up against his ass just to see him drop his head and rock back. “ah, ah baby,” john purrs, and jaren is almost panting just at that, mouth open and begging. john’s fingers work under his waistband, letting smit stretch himself out across the countertop, press his ass back towards john just the slightest. he slides jaren’s jeans down, makes sure to yank in just the right way to make him stumble, chuckling lowly at the affronted look jaren gives him as he steps out of them. john slots back into place behind him, rucks the back of his tshirt up to his shoulderblades, and starts laying kisses. they’re certainly not innocent in nature, hot and full of tongue and teeth, and he works his way roughly down jaren’s spine. by the time he gets to the cleft of his ass, smit’s panting and pushing back on him again, and instead of continuing, he ducks down quickly and bites sharply under one cheek

jaren jumps about a foot in the air, and cuts his own unhappy noise off with a moan as john noses gently into his crack, spreads him easily with his hands. it’s got jaren moaning again in a second, seemingly caught between rutting against the edge of the cool marble and pressing back towards him.

john eats him out like that, lives up to the phrase “eating that booty like groceries”, because he truly does. on his knees on the kitchen floor, smitty moaning and writhing above him. john can tell when he sneaks a hand down to his leaking cock, alternates fucking himself down onto john’s tongue and up into his own fist, but he works himself up into a moaning mess in seemingly no time at all

and then john stops, and jaren whines long and low because oh my god, how many times is he gonna do that tonight? and john bats his hand away from himself, nipping sharply at the marred skin on his neck, and presses two fingers into him harshly.

jaren yelps, protesting at the unexpected intrusion, but john works him back up in no time at all, pressing a third finger in as he kisses jaren over his shoulder. he keeps kissing jaren as he pulls his fingers out, unbuttons his jeans, and lines himself up

jaren breaks away from his lips with a gasp as he thrusts in slowly, easing himself in gently. john holds him up, one hand pressed against his chest, the other clutched in jaren’s hand as he adjusts. john shifts, lets smitty breathe as he tries not to let his hips snap forward

when the furrow between jaren’s brows has eased, john begins to move, watching the muscles in jaren’s arms tense as he fights to keep himself upright, groaning at the feeling of john’s cock inside of him. his arm shifts, and john assumes he’s going to grab the countertop to keep himself balanced, but instead his fingers curls around the arm that’s across his chest. john slows, guessing that maybe he’s- jaren drags john’s hand upwards, pressing his fingers in tight around his throat.

... ah.

“you like that, don’t you baby boy?” john purrs, shifting jaren just enough that he’s pressed back against john’s chest. a strangled moan is jaren’s only response, and he drops his head back against the crook of john’s shoulder, body shifting with john as he fucks up into him. he looks hazy and concentrated, chasing his peak, and john tips him forward, pressing him against the countertop as he moves his other hand down to jaren’s cock.

john squeezes tight around his throat, choking off a whine, and it only takes two pumps of his fist for jaren to go tumbling off the edge, a choked-off moan bursting out of his mouth. john follows him shortly, lured off by the sensation of jaren’s hole clenching down as he came. the younger is panting, slumped over the stone counter, but he’s aware enough to give john a weak grin when he pets down his back.

“happy birthday, baby boy,” john murmurs, and that’s enough to coax a laugh out of jaren. “sorry I made you wait all day to hear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all credit to ash (Miaschyx) for the idea of smitty moving john's hand to his throat. that's the hottest shit I've ever read.


	7. seven [ohmtoonz]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> luke holds ryan down.

listen luke never ties him up but god does he know how to hold him down. ryan’s not small but he feels it, pinned down with luke kneeling on his biceps and he’s vaguely aware of his arms falling asleep but god, why would he ever think about that when he’s got luke kneeling above his face. luke’s got a hand fisted in his hair, too, and shit it’s sending a flash through ryan every time he tries to move and feels the tug, the snap of pain. it’s leaving a heady taste in his mouth, he’s knows he’s drooling but he can’t stop his mouth from falling open and he wants, he wants, he wants. luke knows, but he’s a fucking tease, wants ryan so worked up and wanting, and all ryan wants is his cock, hanging above his tongue and just out of reach. “gonna let me stuff that pretty mouth full?” luke asks, and his voice is low and pitchy, wrecked as ohm feels pinned to the bed.

“god, you look so fucking good underneath me,” luke continues. objectively, ryan thinks he’s got the better view, eyeing up the muscle that rolls under luke’s skin, working to hold himself up over ryan. “so fuckin hot having you so desperate for my cock, honey.” he traces down the side of ryan’s face, lets his thumb catch on ryan’s plush lower lip, and ryan’s sure he can feel the hot, desperate breath that he lets out at the rough drag of calloused skin.

he’s already whining, it’s easy to tip off the ledge of begging and “please, fuck, luke-“ he can’t even vocalize it properly, can’t tell him what it is that he wants because the needy, heaving breaths he keeps taking are only drawing his mind’s attention to the way luke has his arms pinned down and his head braced and he can’t think like this, luke’s above him with a guiding hand on his cock and he almost sobs when luke lets him taste the tip, kitten licks and a tantalizingly small amount of tongue is a miserably small amount and ohm’s working his way back up to whining.

luke’s teeth are gritted, though, and ohm’s so hopeful that he’s reaching his breaking point, that he’ll fuck ohm’s face in that mindblowing deep snap that means he’s about to tip over the edge. he’s feeding his cock to ryan, now, every slow, eager stroke just nudging the back of his throat. luke’s murmuring above him, words that light a fire in his gut, “taking my cock like the bitch you are, aren’t you baby? such a good fuckin whore, so eager to take my cock down your throat. made to take my cock, aren’t you honey.” he’s accenting every word with a particularly sharp tug of ryan’s hair, and he’s more than squirming, positive his throat is spasming around luke’s cock, hands desperately grasping at his thighs as he fucks deeper into ryan’s mouth.

“shit, baby, I’m so fucking close. you suck dick like a goddamn slut, honey, such a good boy for me,” and ohm whines around his cock and lets the tip slide into his throat and choke him, cut off his air so all he can think about it the cock in his throat and hands in his hair luke over him and-

luke slides one hand down to his throat and presses. that’s it for ryan, then, sobbing and choked on luke’s cock and desperate for any kind of friction. he thinks he might be bucking, trying to get luke off and get a goddamn hand on himself, but luke doesn’t budge, rolling his hips to force his cock deeper in ryan’s throat. ryan’s safe, he’ll snap his fingers if he needs a safeword, but god, it’s so fucking hot for both of them imagining ryan trying and failing to get luke off of him, a toy to play with as he pleases.

panting, luke tilts ryan’s head up, one hand in his hair and the other still pressing a pleasing pattern into his windpipe, and pulls his cock out of ryan’s throat to pump out his load, fucking shallowly onto his tongue. ryan’s moaning again, then, throat raw and broken from arousal and abuse, a needy “fuck, luke,” escaping him as he laps up luke’s cum, cleans him off as luke untangles his hand from his hair, braces a hand on either side of his head as he pushes himself off of ryan’s arms. ryan flexes a little, still spread on the bed, and is just about to start whining at luke for leaving him unsatisfied when there’s a hand against his throat, holding him fast against the bed. “I didn’t say we were done,” luke says cheerfully, and there’s something in his voice that implies the word growl and ryan is ashamed to admit that he whimpers.

luke’s fingers trace down his stomach like he’s a canvas and luke the pensive paintbrush, but ryan knows him well, feels the subtle dig of his nails and knows that he’s raising red lines on ryan’s pale skin. his fingers dip over ryan’s hipbones, pressing into the dark marks luke has already left on his skin, bruises that claim him. luke’s fingers dig in, and ohm’s still whining, hips twitching into luke’s hands. “so needy, aren’t you baby?” he sounds sympathetic, but ryan feels the hand around his throat clamp tighter, give ryan just enough to make him feel limp and heavy, whining the white noise filling his head to luke. “okay, honey,” luke murmurs. “I’ve got you, gonna make you cum so good on my fingers." ryan’s head is spinning with the hand on his throat and dipping into subspace, swimming in drowsiness and adrenaline.

luke does, pulls all his strings, tells him he’s gorgeous and the best damn whore he’s ever laid eyes on, and ryan can’t stop the whines that rip from his throat at either. “good boy,” luke whispers when he cums, and forces ohm to clean his own cum off luke’s fingers, tells him “good boy, so eager to use that tongue, so fuckin hot, baby boy,” and ryan’s panting and curling his tongue around luke’s fingers. 

“good boy,” luke tells him, one more time, when he finishes.


	8. eight [krii7y]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's been two months since smitty's seen john, and someone's broken in to his apartment. handjobs and blowjobs commence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was written in tandem with ash (Miaschyx) and rose (Crimson_Rose15) in the bps discord. lovely rosie wrote our setup, and ash and I got to have a grand old time writing out the tender angst smut!! cheers to both of them for encouraging me to post it here :)

It's dark. Jaren had turned in for the night a few hours ago, but he can't sleep, regardless of how tired he is. He just... feels like something is off, and from past experience, whenever he feels like that, something is bound to happen.

It always did, after all. Tonight is no different.

He'd heard Octavia get up, heard her make a few huffing noises before going silent again. That alone set him off, and without a second thought he’s getting out of bed, opening his bedroom door, knife in hand, ready to defend himself if need be.

He creeps silently into his kitchen, looking around, all senses on alert, seeing nothing out of place, nothing that would indicate that someone is-

Someone pushes him against his fridge, and Jaren gasps as the hand that holds the knife is grabbed, squeezed until he's forced to let go, whimpering softly as it clatters to the floor. He can hear the scratch of the knife being pushed away before he's released. He whips around, ready to fight for his life until he catches sight of the silhouette of the male before him-

"John?"

"Couldn't have you stabbing me," John whispers, looking at the floor between them. "Sorry for the harsh treatment, Smit. Knew you'd 'stab first ask questions'- "

"What the fuck are you _doing_ here?!" Jaren hisses. "How did you even get in the building?! Wildcat is patrolling, did you fucking take him out or something?!"

"As nice as it would be to get rid of the lumbering idiot- "

"John- "

"I didn't kill him. Didn't touch him. Just slipped by, that's all. V'been watching his patrol routes for the past couple of nights; figured out when to slip past him without getting caught. Even made friends with your dog when you guys were out on a mission so that I wouldn't get my leg chomped off if I ever did something like this, too."

Well, that explains the missing footage to his apartment every couple of weeks.

"What are you doing here, John? You're going to get in serious trouble if you're caught."

"That's _if_ they catch me, and to answer your question... I had to see you again, Smit. It's been over two months, I couldn't wait any longer."

"It doesn't matter! I won't risk them finding out about you just because you wanted to see me! You have to leave before Wildcat comes back, he won't hesitate to kill you if- "

"Let him try."

John pushes Jaren against his fridge, leaving Jaren gasping as John lifts his hands, pinning them near his head as he links their fingers together, knee spreading his thighs as Jaren looks up into his eyes, seeing a hungry expression that he'd only been witness to one other time-

The one time they'd almost been caught.

"Stop," Jaren begs, turning his head, tears coming to his eyes. “They'll catch you, they will. I can't let that happen knowing I could have stopped that from- "

"Keep your voice down," John leans closer, breath hot against his ear, "And let me take care of you. It's just you and me, no one else tonight. They won't know I'm here, you don't have to worry about anything. Just... let go for the night."

Jaren bites at his lip, closing his eyes as his thoughts clash in his head.

He can't tell John no. He never could. He'd do anything for the brunette, and that includes taking a bullet for him if it keeps John alive. And his words... they're so tempting, wrapping around him with promises of a good night, knowing that John won't hurt him, won't do anything to hurt him, despite the two of them being in different gangs of one another.

The very idea of them even seeing one another as often as they did was a taboo one, knowing how dangerous it was, trusting someone from a different gang, falling in love with someone from a different gang...

Jaren lets out a shaky exhale, opening his eyes looking up at John yet again, who was waiting patiently for an answer, for Jaren's consent.

"Tonight," Jaren says, "Just for tonight. After that, we can't do this again. Not here, anyways. Understand?"

John's smile spreads slow and sweet across his face, and he leans in to slot his lips against Jaren's, a gentle but eager press that makes Jaren gasp. John takes the opportunity easily, nipping at Jaren's bottom lip before he sneaks his tongue into his mouth.

Jaren can feel the fabric of John's thin jacket brushing his hair — he’s still holding Jaren's hands in place. He moves the slightest bit, pulling against John's grip, and feels his hand tighten around Jaren's wrists. A surprised yelp tumbles out of Jaren's mouth, and his body twitches, pressing him further against John. He knows the older can feel it, too, thigh still braced in between Jaren's legs.

The fridge buzzes behind Jaren, cold upon his back, but the warmth of John pressed against his front and pinning him there more than makes up for it. John takes a small moment to slide his leg up, feeling the heat between them and the way Jaren's body responds, painting it loud and clear how much he's missed him, missed this kind of contact.

"God, I don't care, I'd do anything to have you like this," John mumbles, drinking in the quiet hum that slips out of Jaren. He pushes both wrists into one hand and lets the other slide down his side, reaching down until he can slip his fingers up underneath his shirt and fan his fingers out over Jaren's skin.

"This is the last time," Jaren murmurs, and cuts himself off in a gasp as John lets his cool fingertips dip under Jaren's waistband. There's no hurriedness in his movement, but Jaren can taste the melancholy bitterness lingering at the back of his throat. He's very aware of it, wants to slip his fingers through John's hair and draw him in. 

But John's mouth is otherwise occupied, dancing down the smooth edges of Jaren's shoulder, teeth slipping into the small butterfly kisses just enough to make Jaren sigh, leaning his head back against the fridge to give John better access. He takes it, leaving a sharp bite on Jaren's collarbone, just shy of leaving his marks, and there's heat coiling in Jaren's gut at the spark of sensation.

When fingers finally wrap around him, squeezing gently, Jaren can't help the soft moan that slips out of him. He hasn't been able to think of anything else but John whenever he touched himself, knowing nothing would ever be as good as the real thing. And it's the realisation that John's ruined that for him that makes him shudder.

John's lips buzz against his skin when he mutters, “You said the first time would be the last, too." Although his words come with a hint of smugness, there's a heavy tone beneath it as John tugs his waistband down to his thighs, mouth occupied with leaving a litany of bruises and bitemarks, hickeys and love-bites. Maybe the thrill of being so close to being caught is what makes it all the more exciting, more tempting, having what they crave so bad but are told they cannot attain.

He can feel the wash of heat from John's open mouth brush tingling over his neck, both of them almost panting as they press against each other. John seems... quietly powerful, leaning into Jaren, pinning him against the cold metal, hand brushing across his cock. But Jaren knows his tics, can feel John's hand starting to twitch against his own, and it's something special feeling John's teeth close particularly hard on his skin when Jaren moans. Knowing that he holds power, too.

John's hand brushes over the swell of Jaren's belly, back arched off the fridge, and gives him a slow stroke, brushing his thumb gently over the tip to smear the precum down his shaft. He's leaning over Jaren, and it's easy for him to capture Jaren's mouth with his own as his hand moves, swallow the noises he makes.

Jaren can't even hide the way his body flushes, struggling against the urge to push into each and every touch. The sweltering heat of their mouths pressed together mixed with the sinful pleasure that continues to build. John keeps his own hips pushed up against Jaren, relishing in the desperate little moans he can almost taste against his lips.

A small shake overtakes his arms before Jaren twists one of his wrists free of John's grip and grabs hold of his hair, fingers twitching. When he finally gets a gasp of air in, all he can think to say is, "Don't stop, don't fucking stop, I _swear_..." His words trail off at the feeling of John's hand moving faster, squeezing on the upstroke and causing his hips to jolt forward at the bliss that pulses through him, growing and growing.

He doesn't stop, letting his wrist twist on Jaren's cock, and Jaren is breathless, panting out desperate encouragement. John gets his teeth into the crook of Jaren's jaw, peppers gentle bites under his ear, and his hand is still moving on Jaren's cock, tips him over that delicious peak.

Jaren cries out as he cums, hand fisting in John's hair, though he barely notices the rub of the silky strands against his palm. His head tips back, a dull crack against the metal of the fridge, and John watches Jaren's eyes squeeze shut with his lips against his skin and one hand slick and sticky.

"You look so fuckin' hot," John tells him, continuing to stroke him through it, drinking in the sight before him; Jaren blissed out and shuddering through his orgasm. He shifts his hold on Jaren's wrist to instead pressing their palms together, intertwining their fingers and squeezing their hands together.

Still panting, Jaren opens one of his eyes to look at John, lips parted and chest heaving, and all he can think of is trying to repay the favor, to give John the same amount of pleasure that swept him off his feet. He tries to shift his hips, free hand falling down towards John's pants, pressing at his length through the fabric and feeling it twitch at the contact.

When John still has that dark look in his eyes, the one that gives his tone so much heat, it's an easy decision for Jaren to follow his gut and stumble into a kneel in front of John, hands still pressed against his bulge and now fumbling with his zipper. Jaren's trembling, something minute, aftershocks from his orgasm still shaking through him, and his muscles are loose and shivery.

He's eager, though, and that more than makes up for it, yanking down John's pants and boxers just enough that he can nuzzle into the crook of his thigh, pressing wet, open kisses to the base of John's cock. He can hear the heavy breath John sucks in above him, a hand dropping to his head to knot securely in his hair.

Jaren curls his fingers against John's legs, one sliding up to wrap around his shaft and give a squeeze as he shifts his head just enough to mouth over the tip. His knees hurt slightly from the sudden drop, but the look in John's eyes, the heady, lust-filled stare that holds him in place without even trying.

He doesn't bother with teasing, easily taking in his length and pressing his tongue against the underside of his cock, the weight of it heavy in his mouth. There's a hushed curse from overhead as John plants his free hand against the fridge for balance. His hips twitch and Jaren can't help the small spark the motion sparks within him at the thought of getting face-fucked. He bops his head, squeezing at the base of his member as he swallows around the rest of it.

It's difficult to keep trying to look up at John with his cock sliding down the base of his tongue, but there's something burning in his eyes that makes Jaren feel like it's important to catch a glimpse of his face. 

"Ho, fuck," John mutters, teeth gritted, as he meets Jaren's eyes, watery from strain. Jaren bobs his head deeper, lets the tip of John's cock slide into his throat and cut off his air. It's not a long time, but it feels like an eternity to Jaren, stroking his tongue down the underside of John's cock and trying not to choke.

The hand in his hair ushers him backwards, John stepping with the motion until he has Jaren pushed back against the fridge again, only this time on his knees. He would be embarrassed by how eagerly he tugs him back into his mouth, but the groan that sounds from overhead is enough to overcome that internalisation, leaving him struggling to push down his gag reflex as John presses himself farther into his mouth.

Jaren hums softly and is rewarded with a small thrust into his mouth, causing him to scrunch his eyes up at the way his throat tightens against the intrusion. He curls his fingers around John's hip, tugging him closer, encouraging him to keep going. If he wasn't already spent from before, Jaren knows he'd be sporting another hardon in an instant.

The hand in his hair is gentle but demanding, urging Jaren deeper down John’s cock, and slowly he shifts lower, blinking back tears as his throat spasms and protest the intrusion. But it’s worth it to have John above him, noisy as ever, hiss his name on a particular downstroke.

Jaren’s nose is almost touching John’s pubic bone and he gags, throat closing abruptly. John groans above him, hand clamping down tightly to his head, and Jaren can’t breathe but also can’t bring himself to panic just yet-

John lets him off, and Jaren pulls back only for a heaving breath before he’s diving back in, single minded in his lust.

"Fuck, you're—" John's words are cut off with a low groan as Jaren laves his tongue over the head before taking him in once again, blinking up at him with a watery gaze. The grip on his hair tightens, not quite pulling him away or forcing him down, but the slight tinge of pain in his scalp pulls a whimper from Jaren's lips.

It's the same as last time, watching John lose control as his hips roll again, trying to push into his mouth even more than it already is. And Jaren lets him, letting slip a low groan of his own as he feels his cock twitch.

The only verbal warning he gets is a muttered, "Hey, fuck, Jaren," before John hits his high, thighs shaking as he struggles against the urge to thrust into Jaren's mouth as he fills it up. Face scrunched, Jaren swallows as best he can, taking as much of John in as he can. He squints upwards, watching the man revelling in his pleasure. It's just the satisfaction that comes with knowing he brought about John's bliss that has him subtly preening, pulling off of John.

Jaren doesn't have a second to relax before John is dragging him up to standing. They're both a little unsteady on their feet, but John's quick to smother him in kisses, careless of his own taste on Jaren's lips. Gentle fingers run over cheeks and brush back hair, pressed close together.

A loud thump from outside has them both jumping, looking around, afraid they'd been caught, only to brush it off as irrelevant.

"You need to go before you get caught," Jaren mumbles against John's lips, even as he kisses him back.

There's a small sigh before the other says, "Yeah, I know, I know. I just wish we didn't have to leave all the time, just stay for a while." Jaren agrees, albeit silently. He presses a lingering kiss against John's lips before regretfully backing away.

"Go on, get out of here, just don't let Wildcat see you," he says, giving John a smile as he reaches down to pick up the fallen knife he'd dropped earlier. There's a fondness in the look cast his way afterwards before the man slips out the door and makes his escape.

Jaren doesn't doubt he'll be coming back sooner than last time for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I edited this one slightly bc somehow the tense got switched halfway through and it was bugging me. apologies for not holding up to the 'unedited' standard in this here book!)


	9. nine [terrormoo]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written with the lovely rosie (Crimson_Rose15)!! ao3 still won't let me tag her as a cocreator :/

"Brock, fock- " Brian stood quickly, turning to face his lover before he was turned back around, moaning as he was pushed against his desk, snagging his bottom lip between his teeth as the older male _growled_ , closing his eyes, knuckles almost white from how hard he was holding the edge of his desk without realizing it, heat radiating from the body pressed firmly against his own. "M'sorry-"

"First, you make a joke about using your controller as a vibrator _in front of everyone_ \- " Brock ground against him as he spoke, Brian whimpering at the feel of a hand snaking down to his belt, another working it's way under his shirt, his mind swimming. "And then you go and _**piss me off**_ to no extent without thinking about the consequences."

"Do I ever?" Brian sassed as he glanced over his shoulder, smirking slightly before letting out a hiss, eyelids fluttering as Brock reached into his pants, hips thrusting involuntarily into the touch.

"You knew what you were doing, just like the bratty little bottom you are. You do know that if you want my dick so badly, all you have to do is ask, right?"

Brian groaned, head rolling forward to hang between his shoulders, hips grinding forward as much as he could, pinned as he was between Brock's body and the desk. "Fuck yeah, want ya t' dick me down, _daddy_." His voice was dripping with sultry sarcasm, but the taunting tone disappeared in barely a second when Brock moved to pull his hand out of Brian's pants. "Wait, no, I want-" he started to whine.

"I'll bet you _want_ , huh?" Brock snapped, leaning forward to cover Brian's body with his own, mouth meeting the curve of Brian's shoulder harshly. The younger groaned again, pushing back against Brock's crotch and grinding desperately, hoping to build up enough friction to make the older needy, but Brock stilled the motion with a firm hand on Brian's hip. Brian could almost feel his sharp eyes narrowing as his fingers dug bruises into Brian's skin.

"Don't move." His words were harsh against Brian's ear, the younger nodding incessantly, biting his lip as one hand snuck under his pantline, teasing him but not moving to where he wanted- no, _needed_ \- to be touched. "You want me to touch you, Brian? Want me to use my fingers to open you up, to give you pleasure that only _**I**_ can give you?"

A whine spilled from Brian's lips as his whole body tensed, a hot ache pooling between his legs. The need to rut into Brock's hand only grew as the older brushed almost delicately over Brian's pubic bone, and he whimpered a stuttered "please, Brock, oh- fu- _huck_ -"

Brock had just dragged his fingers lower, curling his hand around the base of Brian's cock. "Please _what_? Did you suddenly forget how to use that bratty mouth of yours, baby?"

"No, I- mmph~ " Brian's words were cut short as Brock jerked up, hand returning to where it had settled moments before, a whine cutting from Brian's throat as he tried rutting his hips forward again, letting out a noise of frustration when he was unsuccessful. "Please, need you to touch me... want you inside, _need_ you inside, Brocky please-"

"Yeah? You want me to take you right here, hold you down against the desk and fill you up?" Another whine ripped itself out of Brian's throat, quickly taking a thin, needy tone as Brock pulled his hands away. "Stay _put_ ," he ordered harshly, and Brian nodded frantically, pressing his forehead against the cool wood.

Brock stripped him slowly, letting his hands linger on Brian's waist and press marks into the backs of his thighs. Straightening back up, he left a few kisses scattered up Brian's spine before he plastered himself up against his prone body, rolling his hips slowly just to hear the hiss it dragged from Brian's lips.

"Fohk, need more, need- " Brian pressed back, rolling his hips down, groaning as the hand on his thigh tightened, heat spreading from the touch, "Brocky, please, I can't- I need you to- "

"I told you to stay put." The words were strained, proving that Brian's movement had the desired effect, "How many times are you going to disobey me tonight, Brian?"

Brian moaned, the noise charged with want, and his hips stuttered forward against the edge of the desk. "Keep it up and I'll make you get yourself off, see if I don't." Brock's lips moved away from his ear again, trailing a second hot line down Brian's neck as he worked Brian's shirt off. All of a sudden, Brian was naked under Brock, writhing with want, pinned down underneath him, and the contrast between his naked body and Brock's fully clothed one couldn't have been clearer to either of them. The additional level of the power dynamic only added to the electricity in the room.

"Please, Brock, I'm- _ah_ -" Brian was breathless, and losing his train of thought more quickly than he could manage to find it. As Brock bit down on his neck pointedly, Brian let out another keening whine, rolling his hips back into Brock's once again.

"Fuck, you don't know how sexy you are, even when you disobey me." Brock growled softly, grinding against him one last time before forcing himself to move away, watching Brian's body twitch and shudder. "Too bad you made me mad earlier; I'd love to bend you over and fuck you like there's no tomorrow, love to mark you up to where you couldn't go out in public without people finding out how much of a cock slut you are~"

"No- nonono, Brocky, please, fuck-" Brian begged. His body twitched as though he were making to stand up before he flattened himself against the desk, cock hanging heavy with arousal between his legs. "Please, Brock, want you ta fuck me, _please_ ,"" he whimpered, throat bobbing against the cold wood.

"I'm not going to touch you yet. You're going to have to get yourself ready." Brock's voice was low as he spoke, Brian looking back over his shoulder at him. "Is your toy in here? Your lube?"

"Brocky please, I want _you_ , I want-" Brian cut himself off as Brock's hand palmed at his ass, a soft moan leaving his lips before the hand pulled away. "Please, please, please- "

“I’m gonna jerk off, honey, and if you’re ready for me before I come, I’ll fuck you, as hard as you want me to.” Brian could hear him rummaging around in the drawers on the other side of the room, and he pressed his face into the table, hoping to cool the hot flush of blood high on his cheeks. “You’re gonna have to get ahold of yourself fast-“ The comforting timbre of his voice dropped lower, hotter. “You’re gonna look so good fingering yourself over your desk, I don’t know how long it’s gonna take me.”

He set the bottle gently by Brian’s head. Brian let out a plaintive “ _please_ , Brock-“ but cut himself off in a yelp as Brock swatted sharply at his bare ass.

“You better get moving and stop whining,” Brock said, and underneath the teasing exterior lay something darker. That was an order.

Letting out another whine to voice his discomfort, Brian lubed up his fingers, ignoring the few drops that fell to the desktop. God, he needed something in him _now_ , and since it wasn’t going to be Brock’s fingers, he’d get by on his own. He could already hear the slick slide of Brock’s hand behind him, a slow, easy rhythm that only got Brian hotter, squirming as he traced one finger around his rim.

If Brock was only gonna watch, might as well give him a show, huh?

It was comfortably familiar to work himself up to a second finger, moaning as he started a scissoring motion, but it was infinitely sexier when he can hear Brock’s hand speed up as he did so, and Brian let out another whimper against the table, trying to get himself up to three asap. The burn was lessening, but he was still racing Brock’s hand, and he braved the discomfort to get a third finger into himself, hissing his displeasure at the stretch.

Pumping his fingers in and out of his abused hole, Brian started scissoring all three fingers, prepping himself faster than he ever had. He didn’t bother searching for his prostate, confident that Brock would hit it, instead facing the stretch head-on, curling his fingers with abandon.

“I’m ready, I’m so fuckin’ ready, _please_ , Brocky,” Brian gasped into the table. “Want you so bad, _please_ -“ He realised with a shock there were tears running down his face, and Brock seemed to realise at the same time, stepping up behind the younger.

He brushed one hand gently over Brian’s flank, the other thumbing over his cheeks to wipe away any remaining wetness. “Colour, baby?” he asked, voice gentler than it had been all night.

“Green, green, I just need you so fuckin’ bad, please, Brock,” he whimpered, body arching into the older man’s touch.

“I’ll bet you do, huh? Such a needy little brat.” The dominant persona that Brock was slipping back into couldn’t hide the fondness in the words, but they still had Brian squirming on the table, moaning as he pushed back into Brock’s willing hands.

“Please, please,” he whined. A startled yelp tumbled out of his mouth as Brock thumbed over his fluttering hole, nail catching on his rim. Head up, studying Brian’s body, he pushed his thumb in.

There was an immediate reaction, Brian shifting back to fuck himself open on Brock’s finger, Brock bracing his hips to catch against Brian’s and shove him back down. Withdrawing his finger (and ignoring the resulting moan), he unzipped his jeans and lubed his cock up slowly, making sure Brian heard every bit of it. Based on the way he was squirming, trying to roll his hips back, Brock was sure he could.

“You ready for me, Bri?” Brock asked, letting the tip of his cock rub gently over Brian’s hole. “Gonna let me take you apart, get you screaming from my dick?”

Brian was pushing back, trying to impale himself on Brock’s dick. “Oh my god, stop fuckin’ teasing.” he groaned. “Need you in me, _please_ , Brocky.”

“I know, honey,” was all Brock said before slamming his cock in.

Brian almost did scream, then, choking on his moans as Brock slammed into him with barely any time to adjust. He didn’t stop, hands planted on either side of Brian’s ribs, pumping in relentlessly. Brian met him thrust for thrust, rolling his hips back, almost howling out moans — “oh, _fu_ \- Brock, I- _ah!_ ”

“Come on, brat,” Brock gritted out. “Gonna make you- come on my cock.” Brian gasped, hand drifting down to his cock, and, body rocking with Brock’s thrusts, it was only a few short seconds later that he came, crying out Brock’s name. Brock followed soon after, letting his load shoot deep inside Brian, clutching him close around the waist.

Brock stood up slowly, uncurling his back and drawing his boyfriend up to do the same gently. “C’mon, babe,” he murmured, pulling his softening cock out of Brian as he coaxed the man up to standing.

Brian hummed noncommittally, grasping for Brock’s wrist and turning his half-awake gaze on Brick’s clear eyes. “Are ya’... still mad ‘t me?” Brian asked, sleepy and slumping towards his boyfriend.

“No, god no sweetheart,” Brock said, raking a hand through Brian’s hair. “I never was, just frustrated. Right now I just want a shower and a nap with you, okay?” Brian hummed again, following his boyfriend’s easy gait down the hall.


End file.
